Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Sins of the Family	By : RyalsShoal Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kakashi/Iruka Views: 2042 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not have any affiliation with the Naruto Franchise, they belong to their respective owners and companies. This is a personal work for no profit.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Author's Notes: Thank you for Beta'ing this beast of a chapter juniperbreezie (I just realized the wordcount is over 8200+ O_O;) thank you for all your work! ♥

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"Revenge converts a little right into a great wrong"

German Proverb

*Scritch Scritch*

The scrapping grated at Iruka's ears. Still half conscious, he rolled over in a feeble attempt to blot out the noise. Then with a start he remembered the battle with Tohru and his capture by Akiyuki. Iruka’s eyes snapped opened to only see the black of utter darkness. ~'Where am I?'~ He propped himself onto his elbows and peered about his surroundings.~’Is this a prison cell?’~

*Scritch Scritch*

The distant glow of a tiny flame penetrated the dark. Iruka slowly rose to his feet and cautiously made his way to investigate, his bare feet made no sound on the smooth wooden floor. His body moved fluidly and unhampered by injury. Iruka assumed that he must have been healed by a medical-nin while unconscious, most likely in preparation for torture by his sadistic captors.

*Scritch Scritch*

As Iruka approached the point of light, he could make out the form of a young boy hunched over an oil lamp, his back turned to the Chuunin. ~“Hello?”~ Iruka quietly called, he could see that the scraping sound was from the boy sharpening a set of shuriken on a whetstone. The child gave no indication of hearing and continued with his task. ~“Hey!” ~ Iruka’s uneasiness was smothered by his growing irritation. When he again did not turn, Iruka rounded around the boy to get his attention. ~“I’m talking to you!”~

The boy’s face was bowed and hidden by dark bangs. As soon as Iruka saw the detail of his calloused oil-slicked fingers gripping the shuriken over the whetstone, the room erupted into full illumination. Iruka blinked at the sudden brightness of lamps and candles, and once his eyes adjusted he found himself standing inside the main hall of a large indoor shrine. The building was old and unkempt, the floors stained and dirty. Dust and cobwebs covered every possible surface. The musty odor of mildew permeated much of the neglected shrine.

~“What is this place?”~ Iruka spun around to face the boy, who audibly sniffed and used the sleeve of one arm to wipe his nose; his eyes remained focused on the weapon in his hand. More than a little unnerved by his surroundings and now furious at being continuously ignored, Iruka knelt down in front of the boy. ~“Why won’t you answer me?” ~ he demanded and reached out to shake the boy’s arm—-and yelped in alarm to see his hand pass through the child as if he was made of mist. Iruka had to catch himself before he lost his balance. He stared dumbly at his hands; they looked and felt solid enough. ~’Am I in a genjutsu illusion?’~ He suspiciously looked up to study his companion, who still gave no indication that Iruka existed.

The boy’s features were broad and still held the baby-fat of a child; Iruka guessed that he was probably no more than thirteen years of age. The pale flesh of an old scar ran across the right side of a cheek to the lopped-off tip of an ear. Dark brown eyes were partially hidden by the overgrown bangs of his short black hair. He wore the standard uniform of a shinobi, a short dark grey tunic that was heavily patched and mended. Loose black pants cropped below the knees showed two filthy and scarred feet poking out under his folded legs. Iruka had the impression that despite the boy’s youthful appearance, he was an accomplished and dangerous warrior.

~“Why trap me in this genjutsu?”~ Iruka asked himself as he explored the room. The main hall of the shrine stood around a hundred paces from either wall, the roof was tall and spacious, wide beams disappeared into the dark shadows where lamplight could not penetrate. Iruka could see the glint of tiny red eyes moving about the woodwork as rodents scurried above the unclean rafters. On the other side of the room sat a small shrine built into the wall, it contained a statue of an animal deity Iruka did not recognize, and sat as dusty and neglected as the rest of the building. A single red candle was left unlit in front of the statue.

Iruka walked to one of the two wide uncovered windows where he could feel a breeze wafting through. It was a cold night. Moonlight filtered through the canopy of the surrounding forest, with gently swaying branches made bare by late autumn weather. Iruka tentatively held out a hand to pass outside and was not surprised to see his attempt blocked by an invisible barrier that did not extend beyond the windowsill. He shook his head in bewilderment. The layers of unnecessary details and subtle smells about this world--down to the warm scent of heated lamp oil and distant rot of autumn leaves--made his surroundings seem far too elaborate and realistic to be an illusion. Iruka firmly pinched himself on the cheek, and winced at the pain. If it was not a genjutsu or a dream, he did not want to even consider the alternative. But even if he was a ghost trapped in the world of the living—then why this place? Iruka had never seen the boy or the decrepit building before in his life. He had no reason to haunt this place.

Both Iruka and the boy looked up sharply at the tinkling of tiny bells ringing high above in the ceiling. Iruka recognized the sound as a tripwire alarm of some sort, likely set to warn against intruders approaching the shrine.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” The voice of a young woman called outside the main door.

The boy hastily pushed aside his equipment and scrambled to his feet. “Just a minute!” he called, sounding painfully young to Iruka’s ears. He curiously followed the child to the main door, who then proceeded to unhook the simple rope latch and tug at the handle. The doors creaked open to reveal the silhouette of a girl with long hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

“Thank the Gods! I didn’t think I would find anyone so far out in these mountains!” The young woman bowed her head in gratitude and stepped into the light. Iruka did a violent double take, and felt his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat. ~“Mom!?”~

No, she was definitely not his mother. The girl was far too young and her features were fine and long of bone, her honey colored hair shone bright in the dim lamplight. Iruka’s mother had a more rounded face inherited by his grandmother, and possessed dark brunette hair the same as his own. But the eyes…the strange girl’s bright brown eyes mirrored that of his dead mother—and his own whenever Iruka gazed at his own reflection. Iruka shivered, the maiden’s resemblance was almost frightening.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I was hoping to pay for shelter for the night.” The girl explained, and then blinked down at the boy. “Are you the only person here?” she asked.

“No, my brothers are gone.” The boy gruffly replied, and inclined his head towards the main hall. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, please!” The girl grinned and bounded into the room. Iruka’s heart twisted at the sight, it was the ghost of a smile that graced his childhood memories. The stranger toed off her sandals and lightly stepped into the main room of the indoor shrine. “Hmm, this place is quite old…” she commented tactfully about the unclean surroundings.

“Yeah, well…my brothers and I have been gone for many years. We just got back.” The young boy suspiciously glanced outside before shutting the massive wood door. “Are you alone?”

“My, aren’t you nosey?” The girl’s reply was light and teasing. She shrugged off her wide traveling pack onto the floor and then stretched her shoulders with a sigh of relief. She wore an unadorned short blue winter kimono that was standard with kunoichi women, and long woolen black pants and white tabi socks to protect her toes from the chill of the season. “But yes, I am alone.” She ran her fingers through her long tresses and readjusted the white silk ribbon that bound her hair.

“Oh, um…good.” The young boy looked perplexed, as if unsure of how to handle himself alone with a stranger.

One of the maiden’s eyebrows rose speculatively at her companion “You don’t meet very many people out here, do you?” The boy shook his head in answer. “Well then, let me introduce myself.” The girl’s smile was bright as she formally bowed before her host. “My name is Hashibara Minako, what’s yours?”

~‘Hashibara!?’~ Iruka blinked.

“Kanzaka Masao.” The boy frowned and hesitated before bowing back, as if the custom of a formal greeting was an unfamiliar one.

Iruka’s mind reeled at hearing both his grandfather’s family name and that of the enemy who hunted . ~‘What the hell is going on here?'~
“So, Masao-kun,” Minako started as she rifled through her pack. “Do you have a place where I can brew some tea? I didn’t realize how cold it can get in the valley.

Masao had started at the suffix attached to his name; his reaction went unnoticed by his companion. “Uh, sure. I’ll go get it.” He mumbled, and briskly walked past Minako.

Iruka was so enraptured by the profile of the maiden that he nearly missed seeing Masao disappear into a back room. Something in his gut warned him to investigate, and he reluctantly followed the boy’s path and patiently waited for him to reemerge. Iruka heard the sounds of heavy items clattering to the floor followed by some muffled cursing, and in a few moments Masao slid open the door. Iruka’s eyes widened in horror at what he glimpsed in the small room before the door was closed; a huge mess of opened bags, spilled food, coins, tools, weapons and clothing were thrown about as if a pack of scavenger dogs had torn through the worldly possessions of countless hapless travelers. ~‘This boy is a bandit.’~Iruka realized with mounting dread, and turned in fear to see both Masao and Minako settled comfortably on cushions on the floor beside the dusty shrine, a small portable brazier and kettle between them.

“I have some leaves that my mother grew in her garden that I’d like to share with you,” Minako said as she pulled out two cups from her pack and placed one before Masao, who stared dumbly down at it. “It hasn’t been a very good season for growing tea, but I’m sure you’d like it.”

“Thanks.” The boy muttered, and glanced nervously at the main door.

~‘He’s waiting for his brothers to return.’~ Iruka realized with a start, and before he could think he ran up to Minako.~“Get out of here! This place is dangerous!”~ He tried to shake her shoulders to get her attention. His fingers passed through her as if she were made of smoke, and his desperate cries went unheeded and the girl remained oblivious of the danger lurking about the shrine. Iruka pounded the floor with his fists in frustration, but that sound too went unheard by the children. ~“Please hear me!”~ He begged.

“You’re awfully shy, aren’t you?” Minako gave the boy a sidelong glance as she unscrewed a tea canister and carefully tipped a generous portion of dried leaves into the teapot.

Masao shrugged his shoulders in answer.

“Are those yours?” Minako gestured to the small pile of discarded shuriken Masao had been sharpening. “May I?” Masao looked confused, but nodded his consent. Minako selected one and carefully held it up with two fingers. “Hmm, the balance is just right,” she observed after a few moments. “These are pretty good, but they can’t be left soaking in oil for too long; otherwise the edges will become dull.”

“You know how to use them?” Masao looked up in surprise.

“Of course!” Minako flashed a grin at the young boy. “I’m training to be a great shinobi warrior, after all!” Her smile faltered into a frown. “At least, I’m trying to. My pig-headed father wouldn’t let me leave the village to fight during the war, you see.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m traveling to the River Council to offer my service; our country needs fighters to help protect our borders in case trouble starts again. Everyone knows that our defense resources are strained enough as it is.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Masao stared glumly at the steaming kettle over the brazier. “I fought in the war for as long as I could remember. Almost all of my family was killed because of it.”

“Oh! ” Minako held a hand to her lips in shock. “You poor thing!”

“It’s alright.” Masao shrugged. “My brothers and I were able to escape. No one can force us to fight any stupid wars out here in the mountains.”

“I see…” Minako looked unsure at the statement, and busied herself by pouring the boiling water into the teapot. “I’m sorry to hear that you’ve lost so much. Wars are terrible things.”

“Then why do you want to go?” Masao demanded, his voice rising bitterly. “You will just get yourself killed!”

“It’s because I am a shinobi.” Minako replied matter-of-factly as she stirred the tea leaves in the pot, she seemed unaffected by the boy’s outburst. “And it is my duty.” She cocked her head as she studied the confused boy. “You remind me a bit of my brother Torichi back home, he’s about the same age as you, and just as understanding as you are about my decision. I told Torichi that I was leaving because I love him and all of my family, and I want to do what I can to protect them. I’m sure that is why your family joined in the war in the first place, to protect the country they love and everyone in it.”

Masao looked down and shook his head sadly at Minako’s words.

Iruka’s ears had perked at the mention of Minako’s younger brother. ~“Hashibara Torichi is her brother? Then that would mean that she is Grandfather Hashi’s sister.”~ He studied the maiden with renewed interest, realizing that he was observing his great-aunt. ~‘So this is the past I’m seeing.’~ It was a relief to know that he was not a ghost, but the revelation did not offer any clues to release him from this strange vision. Iruka watched as Minako suddenly held out a hand to the young bandit before her.

Masao flinched when Minako’s hand reached out to pat his head. He looked up in surprise to see Minako smiling warmly at him, her eyes held a depth of compassion and sympathy that contradicted her years as she comforted the boy. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Her voice was almost motherly as she gently stoked the boy’s hair. “You need to understand that I have to do this for my family. I’m sure you and your brothers would do the same to protect you.”

The change over Masao was almost instantaneous under Minako’s touch. A small sob struggled to escape his throat, and his thin frame shook as the boy fought against tears.

Iruka was all too familiar with the emotions on the boy’s face; it was one of a child who craved the attention of love and of one who dearly missed his mother. Iruka’s hands trembled as he watched the eerie scene of the maiden who possessed his mother’s eyes comforting the battle hardened child, and felt the orphaned boy inside himself crave to feel her gentle touch.

The quiet moment was shattered by Masao stilling Minako’s hand. His face was hard as stone as he stared determinedly into her startled brown eyes. “You need to leave.”

“Huh?” Minako tried to pull her arm away and gave the boy a quizzical look when he did not release his hold. “What do you mean leave? I just got here.”

“You need to leave now.” Masao jumped up to drag Minako to her feet, a tendril of fear had crept into his urgent tone. “Please, my brothers will be back any minute now, and they will kill you if they find you here!”

Minako’s eyes widened. “B-but what do you mean kill me?”

“I don’t have time to explain!” Masao hissed as he dumped the two teacups and stashed the utensils back into Minako’s bag along with the tea canister, then ran to grab her sandals by the door. “We are deserters from the war. My older brothers kill all lone travelers who pass by our woods.” He shoved the items into Minako’s arms and then roughly pushed her towards the east window. “If you go out the back and then follow the river down to the waterfall they won’t find you, just be quiet while you run. And stay away from the trails!”

“You’re serious!” Minako stared in open shock at the boy. “But why are you doing this for me?”

Masao hesitated before speaking. “No one’s been so nice to me since my mother died when I was little,” he said awkwardly. “I almost forgot what it was like for someone to care.”

For a few tense moments, both maiden and boy stared at each other. Then Minako held out a hand to cup the boy’s cheek, where a solitary tear had fallen. “You can come with me and be away from your brothers.” She offered.

“No.” Masao shook his head vehemently. “My brothers are bullies, and I’m used to how they treat me. But they’re the only family I’ve got and I can’t leave them.” The young boy’s face pulled in sorrow, obviously tempted by the chance to escape his violent life. He gripped Minako’s hands and looked into her eyes, his own pleading. “Please, go!” he begged.

Minako reluctantly drew back, her eyes sad. “Thank you, Masao.” She sprinted lightly towards the window, her movements as graceful as any kunoichi. The tip of her long hair disappeared over the windowsill, and then she was gone.

Masao sniffed and wiped away his tears on his rough sleeve. Iruka could not help but feel for the boy, a child warrior who was denied a normal life with a loving family or the innocence of youth--another casualty of war. ~‘Kakashi could have turned out just like that~ Iruka dully realized, then regretted thinking about the Jounin. His heart ached with worry. Would he ever see Kakashi again? Or would he remain trapped in this world, forever a spectator of events long gone by? Iruka leaned heavily against the wall and allowed his body to slowly slide to the floor, he was trying his hardest not to let despair overwhelm him.

The small shrine caught his attention; he turned his head to get a better look at the ceramic statue that sat inside, and furrowed his eyebrows at what he saw. The deity was definitely something that he did not recognize. It was painted white and possessed the sleek body of a large feline and the head of a feral dog; its mouth pulled back in a ferocious snarl that showed rows of sharp teeth, red paint tipped the edges of its fangs. It resembled a demon more than a god. The sight of the statue did little to calm Iruka’s nerves. ~‘What kind of people are they that would worship something like that?’~ He wondered.

************************************************************************************

Iruka was startled awake from a fitful doze by the loud crack of the main doors flying open. He leaped to his feet and instinctually reached for a weapon that did not exist. He had not realized that he had fallen asleep against the wall. From the corner of one eye, he noticed Masao emerge from the back room and look nervously about.

“Hey Masao!” the silhouette of a tall man called before entering the building. “You got anything ready to eat? I’m starving!”

“Get your own damn food Kenbei. I ain’t your fuckin’ nursemaid!” Masao growled, his hostile tone startled Iruka from his first impression of the agitated boy.

Kenbei laughed at the reply and stepped up the entryway, he did not bother to take his shoes off. He appeared to be in his late teens, and shared Masao’s same broad features complete with similar short scraggly black hair. Several long knives were strapped to the front of the black uniform. main hall.

“Take your shoes off.” A dangerous voice growled before its speaker entered the building. It was another of Masao’s family; a man who was well set in his late twenties. He had an air of authority about him that gave the impression that he was the undisputable leader of his family. He was lean and powerfully built with two long swords strapped to his back; the well worn handles that poked out from long black hair gave evidence that the man was skilled with his weapons. His dark eyes glared at Kenbei. “Show more respect in the shrine of our ancestors.”

“So our honorable eldest commands!” Kenbei scoffed. Despite the show of bravado, Iruka noted how the younger brother hastily kicked off his shoes. “I don’t recall you ever bothering to wipe your feet before entering this dump,” he sneered.

“Did you find anything today, Shuichi-san?” Masao interjected to change the conversation when his eldest brother fingered the pommel of one of his two swords.

Shuichi turned to his youngest sibling and gave him a predatory smile. “It’s a shame you weren’t able to join our hunt today, little brother. We were about to give up and go home empty handed when I came across a little bird hiding in the bushes.” Shuichi turned to the darkness beyond the door. “Oi, Azano! Bring her in!”

Another man entered the main hallway. He was the most muscled bound of all the brothers, and also the one with the least resemblance to the three. He was heavily scarred with short spiky dark brown hair, and studded knuckledusters were attached to his hands. A rolled blanket was thrown across his broad shoulders; it was wrapped around the unmistakable form of a small body. Iruka felt his stomach turn into knots when he recognized the tips of honey-colored hair poking out from one end. ~’Oh no…’~

Azano grunted and tossed his burden carelessly onto the floor while gripping one end of the blanket to free its contents. Iruka sank to his knees, he was finding it hard to breathe, and he could not tear his eyes away as Minako’s lifeless body rolled out to land in a crumpled heap. Long strands of her hair had spilled from the white silk ribbon to cover her face. Her skin possessed the sickly yellowish hue of the freshly dead.

“This fuckin’ bitch cut my arm!” Kenbei snarled and viciously kicked Minako’s limp body. Her head lolled to the side at the action, causing the hair to fall away and her fixed eyes to stare directly at Iruka. Her face was contorted into a mixture of fear and agony, the dried tracks of tears still clung to her cheeks. Her once fine clothes were filthy and torn, her exposed breasts covered in blood where the marks of a sword had ended her life. A strangled sob escaped Iruka’s lips; he did not need to speculate on what happened to her before she died.

“Leave it to you to allow a woman to wound you,” Shuichi scowled down at Minako’s corpse. “She was hardly woman anyways.”

~“YOU BASTARDS!”~ Iruka screamed and flung himself at Shuichi. Everything he did to avenge the young woman was in vain, his curses and screams went unnoticed and his fists passed harmlessly through the brother’s heads. He did not know how long he kept up his useless attack, but he eventually wore himself out. All he could do was curl up in the farthest corner away from the grisly scene and bury his head into his knees, and weep bitterly at how little he could do.

The bandits continued chattering amongst themselves as they emptied Minako’s traveling bag. Azano tossed the tea canister aside, it clattered and rolled away to stop before Masao’s feet. The boy’s eyes remained fixed on the container as his brothers picked through the murdered girl’s belongings. Then without a word, Masao turned away and ran to the back room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Where’s he going?” Kenbei asked as he tore hungrily at a piece of stolen dried meat.

Azumo shrugged. “You know how he is. He ain’t too fond of this stuff.”

“He’s still a child.” Shuichi unsheathed one of his swords to clean it on Minako’s tattered robe. The rogue shinobi smiled lewdly at Minako’s body and nudged her head with the tip of his weapon. “He will understand once he is grown, and a man’s needs are known.”

At hearing that, Iruka felt sick to his stomach. He would have vomited if he was able to. Through his own anguish, he hardly noticed when the lights around room began to go dim. The flickering lamps slowly snuffed out, and the details of his nightmarish prison became swallowed by an encroaching darkness. Iruka could barely make out the muffled sounds of Masao’s sobs echoing somewhere in the black abyss.

“I’m sorry!” Masao choked out in a hoarse whisper. “I tried to save you, I’m sorry!”

************************************************************************************

The tiny alarm bells snapped Iruka into full wakefulness. He had fallen into a restless sleep brought upon by sheer exhaustion, and had no way of telling how long he had sat in the quiet darkness of his strange prison. He rubbed his eyes and hastily got up from his corner, the shrine was cloaked in the shadows of night. He could make out bodies stirring in their bedrolls across the room.

“What’s going on?” Iruka heard Masao ask sleepily from his pallet.

“What the fuck!” Kenbei growled and sat up. “Is there someone outside?”

“Shit, Azano!” Shuichi hissed somewhere the darkness. “What the hell!? You were supposed to be on guard duty!”

“Sorry!” Azano growled back. “I’ll go check it out.” The huge shinobi stood up and stretched from where he had fallen asleep by the main entrance. “It’s probably just an animal that tripped the alarm,” he grumbled as he threw open the thick wooden doors. The light of the full moon poured into the building, bringing into stark detail the Kanzaka brother’s pensive faces as they waited for Anazo to make his report. Shuichi had drawn both his swords as a precaution.

The burly shinobi walked a few paces outside and looked carefully about, his senses alert for any chakra presence. “Nothing here,” he declared after a few minutes.

Shuichi sighed irritably, then paused to squint at Azano. A thin shadow across the large brother’s neck had caught his attention. His eyes widened in realization “AZANO! DON’T MOVE!” he cried.

“Huh?” Azano twisted his head around in confusion, the thin wire around his neck jerked at the movement. With a strangled cry, Azano’s large form was thrown forcibly to the earth. The big shinobi choked and clawed uselessly at the wire but his efforts only succeeded in the trap tightening until it broke through his skin.

Kenbei cried out and pulled out his daggers; behind him Masao gasped and did the same with two pairs of kunai.

“It is common knowledge for shinobi to destroy any trace of their kill.” A deep voice echoed throughout the dark shrine, it was deceptively calm and held an undercurrent of unspeakable rage. A tall powerfully built man emerged through the open doors, his long black robes hiding Azano from view outside. “Failure to do so may prove to be your undoing.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kenbei spat and started to advance, but was held back by Shuichi’s raised hand blocking his way.

“You!” Shuichi snarled. “What business do you have here?” The eldest brother narrowed his black eyes on the intruder.

The man held up his right hand where a thin strip of stained cloth was loosely wrapped, the loose ends fluttered at the motion. It was Minako’s white hair ribbon. “You know very well why.”

“Is this guy alone?” Kenbei hissed to his elder brother. “Azano needs help!”

“There is no one with me.” The intruder replied and reached behind his back to unsheathe a long katana. Its keen edge glittered in the moonlight. “I doubt you cowards would be able to quench my blade’s thirst for your blood!”

“Gyahh!” Azano cried over the wire and made a grab for the stranger’s ankles. Iruka had not noticed that he had managed to crawl. Without taking his eyes off the other three Kanzaka brothers, the man deftly twirled his sword and mercilessly rammed it down into Azano’s head. The big shinobi shuddered once, then with a gurgle he collapsed dead.

“YOU FUCK!” Kenbei shrieked, the daggers trembled in his grasp with rage.

“I should have destroyed you Kanzaka scum a long time ago.” The man tilted his head to regard Kenbei, and in doing so the shadows shifted to show his face illuminated by the moonlight. Iruka gaped. The stranger was the spitting image of his Grandfather Hashi, the only difference being a more youthful appearance of a man in his mid-forties, and a long dark braid streaked with silver.

“I found my daughter at the base of the waterfall this morning,” the man continued, he spoke in that same frighteningly flat voice. “And I know what you vermin did to her before she died. You filth are lower than the worms that crawl beneath the earth!” He held his sword up before him, the sharp edge facing the brothers. His free hand was over the hilt of the weapon with two fingers splayed in a jutsu. “SPIRAL!”

A sudden gust swirled about the stranger, forming a whirlwind about his body. Iruka could visibly see the chakra attack due to the wind collecting massive amounts of dust from the unkempt shrine. The swirl of dust condensed to whirl about the blade. “SLICE!” the stranger commanded. The deadly wind shot out in a long arch, leaving deep gouges into the hard wood of the floors and walls wherever the edges touched.

The three Kanzaka brothers scattered from the attack. Masao cried out in pain as his left bicep erupted with blood where the wind had sliced into him. The old shrine shook and groaned from the energy of the blow and debris rained from the ceiling. On instinct, Iruka had jumped up into the shelter of the thick rafters before he could be hit. He could feel the immense amount of chakra in the attacks but was unsure if it could harm him in his wraith-like state.

“I know you, Windcutter Yasunori!” Shuichi spat as he landed back to the floor. He held his hands up for a ninjutsu technique. “Let us see if you can withstand my fire jutsu against your wind, old man!”

“Yasunori?” Kenbei yelped behind his elder brother, his voice almost a terrified squeak. “Shit! She was from the Hashibara clan?! We didn’t know!”

Masao inhaled sharply in pain from his wound and stood his ground between his brothers, his two kunai readied.

Shuichi’s hands moved into a blur and settled on the hand seal for Bird. “Wing Flare!” His arms spread out and streams of fire followed his fingertips. Yasunori coolly observed his opponent’s movements, and then with his blade ready he took a defensive stance. With a yell, Shuichi clapped his hands together with a sound as loud as a thunderclap. The long streams of fire combined into a single point of white-hot flame and shot out directly at the Hashibara patriarch.

Instead of facing the fire attack head on, Yasunori spun counter clock-wise on his heels into it—his robes flared out and the katana swung along with his fluid movements. The stream of flame met his swordpoint and twisted about the long blade. Ceasing his dance, Yasunori slammed his sandaled foot into the ground with a loud CRACK and flicked his sword out as if to rid blood from it. Thin trails of smoke spat out from the blade at the nullified fire ninjutsu.

The brothers gaped dumbstruck at what they had seen. Shuichi’s ultimate fire attack had been rendered ineffective against the master wind manipulator. Masao found his voice. “H-how?”

Iruka was more knowledgeable, and understood that despite fire jutsu being superior to wind, it cannot be effective without oxygen. Yasunori’s technique was a highly advanced form of wind chakra control, one that was rare even in Iruka’s time. They had witnessed a wind jutsu that created a localized vacuum by spinning air in one direction and then suddenly reversing that force to extinguish fire attacks—which was a difficult enough technique—but to localize the vacuum into a moving weapon such as Yasunori’s katana and then catch that narrow stream of concentrated fire into the point of his sword was almost mind boggling. This man who was his great-grandfather possessed a skill well beyond an S-Class warrior.

The Kanzaka brothers had no chance to survive against such a foe.

“Is that it?” Yasunori’s voice was bitter with disgust. “I know now that you Kanzaka filth would not have won in a honorable fight against my daughter. Your capability to continue to disgrace her name astounds even me!” Yasunori readied his blade for another attack. “Come at me cowards, I am no maiden lost in the woods!” He swiped his sword and chakra energy flew from it.

Shuichi leaped out of the way in time, his two younger siblings were not so lucky. “Get back!” Kenbei cried and roughly shoved Masao to the floor. The youngest Kanzaka brother twisted around to pull his brother along with him, but he was too late. Kenbei’s chest erupted from the wind cutter strike. A mess of cartilage, flesh, blood, and bone flew in every direction. He was flung backwards into the wall and slid heavily to the ground, leaving a bloody smear to mark his passage.

Masao scrambled towards his fallen brother and cradled Kenbai’s head on his lap. Kenbei struggled to speak; his breaths came out as if sucking through a dry reed. Then with a strangled gasp, his eyes glazed over and his breathing ceased. “KENBEI!” Masao screamed.

“Fuck!” Shuichi cursed and ran at Yasunori, his twin swords raised to attack. Yasunori slipped easily away from Shuichi’s strike, and continued to gracefully dodge the assaults while repeatedly hitting the eldest brother with shallow cuts meant to emphasize the vast difference in their skills, and that Yasunori was able to easily kill Shuichi once he had tired of toying with his daughter’s murderer.

Masao was wracked with grief, and anger at his brother’s killer suddenly overtook his senses. “YOU BASTARD!” Masao raged and whipped around to throw both his kunai. Yasunori snapped his head away from one, but was forced to allow the other kunaik to strike his right thigh in order to be able to parry Shuichi’s blows, which had become more desperate and harder to read. Yasunori yanked the kunai from his leg and threw it back at Masao.

Masao turned to dodge—and stumbled on Kenbei’s body, leaving his unprotected back exposed for the weapon to hit. He shrieked when the kunai buried itself into his lower spine and fell heavily to the wooden floor next to his brother’s remains. Iruka leaped down from his perch to aid Masao before realizing that he was unable to help. Even if Iruka had the ability to touch the boy, there was nothing he could do. The kunai had severed the nerves inside the lower spine. Masao would never walk again.

Gritting his teeth, Yasunori swung his blade. Shuichi held up his twin swords to block the blow from reaching his face. With a loud CLANG his two swords shattered against the superior metal of the katana, and the eldest brother’s head thudded to the ground. Iruka shied away as the severed head rolled before his feet, a bewildered expression was permanently stamped on Shuichi’s features. Yasunori disdainfully kicked the body to the floor before it could topple foreword.

Iruka had taken little pleasure in witnessing the slaughter. No matter how much the Kanzaka brothers may have deserved their deaths, watching Yasunori inflict his revenge on his weaker enemies had made Iruka’s stomach turn with distaste. Iruka waited apprehensively as his great-grandfather walked towards Masao, the blood-stained sword at the ready to deal the final death blow.

Yasunori coldly watched Masao weakly struggle on the floor. Iruka could hear Shuichi’s blood drip slowly from the katana in the dark room that now reeked with death. He held his breath before the terrible scene, and braced himself for the boy to die.

Masao lifted his pained tear-streaked face at Yasunori. “I’m sorry!” he croaked. His wavering voice was filled with sorrow, and held no pleading tone. The crippled boy was resigned to his fate. “I tried to save her, please forgive me!”

Yasunori regarded the wounded boy for a few heartbeats, then to both Iruka’s and Masao’s surprise, he turned away. The older shinobi wiped his blade with a piece of cloth, tossed it, then sheathed the katana behind his back. “But you didn’t,” he stated simply, sounding both grieved and weary. He inclined his head, the dark shadows obscuring the emotion in his eyes. The glint of a tear caught the silver moonlight. “And I can never forgive you for that.” Without a backwards glance the Hashibara patriarch strode out the main door, leaving the boy to wallow among the remains of his brothers.

“Nooo…” Masao moaned, knowing that he was condemned to die a slow painful death. He buried his face into his arms and wept, his cries ragged and harsh. “They’re all dead! I’m all alone…” He suddenly lashed out with an empty hand. “I hate them!” he snarled. “I’ll kill him for this! FUCK THEM” he shrieked and pounded both his fists into the floor. “I HATE THEM ALL!!” Masao screamed and repeatedly drove his curled fists into the floor until the skin broke. Specks of blood flew out with each new hit, which seemed to intensify his rage. Curses poured from his mouth in a stream of broken words intermingled with sobs of frustration. Iruka was taken aback by the murderous intent festering in the boy, whose last shred of compassion and innocence had been irrevocably crushed into something twisted and dark.

And then Iruka heard it; a sound that was almost the sigh of wind flitting through bone-dry grass. His skin broke out into gooseflesh when he realized that it was not the wind, but a hissing laughter growing louder by the moment. Masao stopped his assault on the floor and froze when he heard the ghostly laughter as well. He turned his vacant eyes towards the dark neglected shrine in the wall. The single red candle before the statue of the demon deity suddenly flickered alight.

“It has been so long!” a raspy voice echoed from the shrine, it was a whistling growl that seemed to fill the room.“How I have craved to taste such delicious rage!”

Every fiber in Iruka’s being screamed for him to flee, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. He stood transfixed as the smoke from the red candle swirled above the bright flame into something out of a nightmare. It was the form of a ruined god; its long feline body was emaciated with flesh and white fur rotting from its bones, the whistling sound originated from fleshless gaps in its dog-like muzzle where long rows of exposed teeth grinned maliciously down at Masao. Its bulging eyes gave off a frightening yellow-green glow through the smoke. ~What the hell is that thing!?’~Iruka shuddered; the evil radiating from that presence was all too similar to what he had witnessed the night the Kyuubi took his parent’s lives.

“Wh-who are you?” Masao sounded unbearably small and insignificant when compared to that malevolent aura.

The being chuckled in that same raspy laughter that turned into a roar filled with power. “I am Malice, I am Rage, and I am Grudge. I AM URAMI!!” The rafters in the shrine rattled at the vibration of the deafening sound. Iruka flinched and tried to cover his ears from the noise, and Masao cringed on the floor. The red candle sputtered but refused to go out.

“I-I don’t understand.” Masao trembled, still awed by the presence of the demon. “Will you heal me?” He glanced back to his useless legs. “If I can walk again—“

“Such little imagination!” Urami spat, the force of its disgust was like a whiplash cracking in the air. Masao squeezed his eyes shut in fear, then tendrils of smoke reached out to caress the boy’s face. “My body is dust but my spirit still thirsts for your human hatred,” it purred. “You will die here, Kanzaka child, unless you make the pact with me. I will grant you the power to destroy your enemies!”

“W-what should I do?” Masao asked, sounding a little unsure.

“That weapon in your back is intermingled with both your blood and that of the Hashibara man.” Urami thrust its terrible face before Masao as it looked the boy over with its yellow-green eyes. “Such a convenient place to have hit--that wound has also made you unable to sire heirs.” It chuckled at the dawning horror in Masao’s face, and continued to goad the boy. “You will never know the caress of a lover’s touch or the feel of a babe bouncing on your lap. Because of the Hashibara, you will never be a true man, and the Kanzaka line is forever dead!”

“Shut up, SHUT UP!” Masao shrieked and feebly lashed out at the smoke before his face, which only reformed itself into the amused demon‘s visage. The boy glared defiantly back into the slitted eyes. “If you won’t heal me, then what sort of power do I get?” Masao demanded. “I want to make them all know my pain!”

Iruka’s throat tightened upon hearing the blood thirst behind Masao’s demand.

Urami threw back its head and howled with laughter, which made the blood run cold in the humans who heard it. “I like your passion, child! But where is the joy in revenge if it is obtained too easily?”

“What are you saying?” Masao gritted his teeth. “As long as I can kill them, then I don’t care how it’s done!”

Uruami’s eyes lolled in its rotting head and grinned--which was a frightening sight to behold. “Give the kunai to me, and I will bless you with a power unbound by the limits of your puny mortal flesh—the ability to possess the innocent and kill all those of the Hashibara clan!”

Without a word, Masao crawled to the shrine. He grunted with exertion as he dragged himself foreword, his blunt nails tore and split from digging into the grain of the wood. With a shaky hand and a small whimper of anticipation, Masao reached behind and yanked the kunai from his back with a gasp, and then held it out to the demon. The intermingled blood of Masao and Yasunori gleamed like cursed rubies in the flickering candlelight as the drops splashed against the small white statue of Urami. “My blood for all of them,” Masao offered, his voice taking a strange unsettling pitch akin with mania. “Give me the power to kill them all!”

The wall pressed hard against Iruka’s back as he watched in horrified fascination as the smoke began to pour into Masao’s mouth, ears, nostrils and eyes as eagerly as if the boy were parched earth soaking in raindrops. Masao’s body shuddered at the demon’s intrusion, and then his face relaxed into a thoughtful frown once all of the smoke had been absorbed. Then suddenly he screeched in rage. “You bastard! What good is your power if I can’t use it on the Hashibara fuckers themselves!?”

Urami’s mocking laughter radiated like poison from the crippled boy. “Oh? Did I not tell you that there is no sport in easy revenge?” Urami gleefully hissed. “Use the bodies of their beloved as weapons! Pain, despair, and betrayal are all delicacies that I long to taste once again!”

“Yesss!” Masao hissed back, sounding frighteningly similar to the demon. The small red candle before the small shrine finally flickered out as if in terror of the new presence inside the boy. In the shadows of the fully darkened room, Iruka could see Masao’s eyes glowing yellow-green in the blackness. Iruka wrapped his arms about himself and fearfully watched as those terrible eyes melted away into nothingness.

************************************************************************************

Iruka returned to consciousness very slowly. He tried to open his eyes but then immediately closed them again, the rays of the late afternoon sun felt like daggers piercing into his skull. A small groan surfaced from his lips in protest to that small effort of movement.

“Oh, he’s finally waking.” A female voice growled nearby.

“You sound relieved, Akiyuki-chan.” An unfamiliar high-pitched man chuckled. “Were you worried that your brutish strength might have done him in?”

“Shut the hell up, Jirou!” Akiyuki snarled. “I’m surprised that venom you call medicine didn’t kill him outright!”

“I take as much pride in my poisons as I do in my medicine!” Jirou sniffed indignantly. “I can only do so much if you and that fool Tohru managed to addle his brains beyond repair!”

“Don’t you dare lump me in with that dead idiot—“

The bickering buzzed in Iruka’s ears like a persistent insect. He was still muddled and confused from the strange dream he had so vividly experienced. His muscles felt that he was stretched in a standing position, with hands bound high above his head by the wrists, and his bare feet barely touched the ground . The acute pain of his battle wounds throbbed from the uncomfortable position, and helped remind Iruka that he was grounded in the real world… and not inside another strange dream.

“Enough.” An old masculine voice quietly commanded the two adults into an abrupt and obedient silence. Something in that voice unsettled Iruka with its vague familiarity. He slowly opened his eyes against the glare of the sun. The dark figure of a seated man filled his vision, and then color blurred into view. A flash of two frighteningly familiar yellow-green eyes caught his immediate attention, and everything in his nightmare came back into stark detail. Iruka’s eyes opened fully and then widened in shock. The ancient man before him had that same scar across his right cheek that trailed a lopped off tip of an ear--the place Minako had once caressed. “M-Masao?”

The old man lifted an eyebrow in mild surprise, and chuckled dryly after a moment in understanding. “Ah, I see.” His jaundiced and wrinkled hands gripped the armrest as he leaned back into his cushioned wheelchair. His ruined and atrophied legs were covered in a rich russet blanket. Masao’s broad craggy face possessed two shrewd yellowish eyes with wide black pupils riveting into Iruka’s startled brown--and seemed to grasp for his victim’s soul. The demon’s malevolent presence intermingled with the Masao’s chakra was terribly vast and intimidating. “Urami-sama has granted you a vision of the past. Did you enjoy it, boy? I often visit this place to meditate on that night.”

Iruka did not answer, and with a will, tore his eyes away to glance at his surroundings. He was in the same place of his nightmare, though the ravages of time had brought the shrine into utter ruin. Rot permeated his nostrils, and gaps in the decaying walls and roof allowed streams of bright sunlight to filter in through the dense shadows of the building. Iruka saw that his wrists were bound in thick rope tied to one of the shrine’s sturdier roof beams. He was forced to stretch in an effort to reach the splintered floor to help support his weight. His injured shoulder blade throbbed with the sharp stabbing pain of damaged muscles strained to their limit. Iruka noticed then that his flack-vest, Hitai-ate, shirt, I.D tag, shuriken holster and shoes had all been removed—namely anything that could be used as corpse identification. He was not meant to be alive for much longer, and his naked torso gave hint that it was to be through torture.

“Your eyes…I remember them so well.” The elderly Masao said, “You are indeed a child directly attached to Minako’s line…through the younger brother Torichi, correct?” The elderly man shook his head, the slight smile on his thin lips faintly echoed Urami’s grin. “It’s a pity that I’ll have to see pain in those eyes again.”

Iruka gritted his teeth and met Masao’s gaze head-on. A sense of release flowed through him borne out of the knowledge that he had nothing left to lose. If Kakashi were to discover his remains, he vowed that he will show the Copy-nin that he had persisted through much--and had died a Konoha shinobi.

Iruka would not go down without a fight.

End of Chapter 9
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Sins of the Family